On the Subject of Birthdays
by Die Einzelganger
Summary: Moneyshipping, Kaiba x clone!Seto, the same clone from the long story I started posting. Rated M for the ending, really. Just to be safe.


Kaiba had a great birthday; Mokuba and Isono made sure of it, as did the soft, hasty kiss he pressed to Seto's temple when he slipped out of bed at dawn, leaving his sleeping clone behind. They had discussed it a few days prior as it was Kaiba's first birthday since Seto's inception, and it was agreed that Kaiba would spend the whole day with his little brother and submit to Mokuba's every whim to indulge, celebrate and completely monopolize his Nii-sama. It was a special occasion, an exception to the rule, and there were only two such days a year when Mokuba could confidently lay claim to every moment of his elder brother's precious time, and so Seto acquiesced with the resigned obedience of a doppelganger forever at the disposal of the Other, even by his absence.

Elaborate plans had been made, every possibility accounted for and exploited, and as all such plans require an early start and plenty of energy, Kaiba was to dress and come down as soon as he was able, greeted by a lavish breakfast spread for Mokuba and himself. Seto was obliged to wake up to an empty bed and find himself deserted, but was not forgotten: a single serving of everything the breakfast table had to offer was sent to his apartment above by dumbwaiter. Tugged by some strange unease, Kaiba scribbled him a note. _Going out now, no phone. I'll be late. Take care. -K_

It was strange, having to leave all means of communication behind except for a beeper to alert Isono if needed. Isono was, in fact, the only one allowed to carry a phone as their bodyguard and Fugata's advisor should he run into any problems supervising Kaiba Corporation affairs for one day. Mokuba insisted that it was the only way to properly enjoy oneself; phones were annoying when you needed both your hands free for shopping, eating, games and amusement park rides and Nii-sama's ring tone was obnoxious anyway (all the more so because it rang so often at all the wrong moments). And so they locked out all outsiders and sealed themselves in a carefree hermetic bubble, just two teenaged brothers spending one day together, one liberating, happy day for them and one ridiculously, wretchedly long day for Seto that was still far from over when an excellent filet mignon was served downstairs and a neatly prepared portion sent upstairs to him. The festivities raged on inexorably, as late as ten thirty, with Mokuba absorbed in a three-hour fantasy epic, his mouth full of popcorn and one elbow constantly nudging his Nii-sama, and only stopped during the sequel when the day's hustle and bustle finally caught up with him. Mokuba was already slumping towards the end of the first but insisted he was not tired and Kaiba decided not to argue: he knew his little brother well enough. When Mokuba stopped swaying in fatigue and toppled over at last, the television was turned off and Kaiba carried him upstairs, tucking him in for the night. He whispered a hushed thank you to the blanket cocoon and checked his watch. It was eleven forty-two. Kaiba pulled the door shut as quietly as he could and made his way downstairs.

A few minutes later, he returned and knocked on Seto's door, letting himself in with a small tray balanced in one hand. Seto seemed not to have heard him at all; he was huddled at his desk feverishly poring over documents and fingers mauling the keyboard. Kaiba deposited the tray on the nightstand and walked over, passing the ruins of Seto's dinner in the kitchenette.

"Seto." The voice was so near, so intrusive in the stale lamp-lit silence it made Seto flinch.

"I'm busy," he muttered through his teeth, smashing the keys with furious speed and frightful inaccuracy. "There's not much left, I want to finish it."

"Seto.." _Has he been working all day..?_

"Just eight more pages!" There were circles under his eyes.

"**Seto."**

The keyboard smacked against the foot of the monitor as the clone reeled back from his work, whipping his head up to glare at Kaiba, but that flare of irritation and anger lasted a mere second, melting into exhausted desperation in those large, hollow eyes. Kaiba reached out and clasped a firm hand on Seto's arm, squeezing gently. Seto yielded.

They soon settled on the bed and sank back into a tall mound of large pillows. Kaiba curled an arm around his clone, holding him close, and Seto slumped against his shoulder, features still tense.

"You worked all day?" asked Kaiba, his voice low. Seto nodded, eyes burning holes into the dreary half-light.

"Because of me?" Another sharp nod. "Why didn't you say anything..?"

"Would _you_ have said anything?" snapped Seto, his shoulders stiff. "How could I say no? or even please? I couldn't. It was _your_ special day."

There was a long pause, painfully long.

"There were times in my life when I hated my birthday," began Kaiba, nudging his head softly against Seto's. "They were exciting when I was little but lost their appeal once my mother died. While we lived at the orphanage, the only reason I cared was because they would order some cake for everyone and I could give my cake to Mokuba. And then Gozaburo, he… he made each birthday a living hell. Those days were the hardest, the worst. I was not allowed to see Mokuba and my workload always doubled or tripled, and punishments became just that much more severe. After his death, for one year, I refused to even acknowledge October 25, but that just made Mokuba upset. After all those years, he finally wanted to celebrate it, celebrate me… so now we do. For his sake more than mine."

"…Did you enjoy it?" asked Seto, his throat tight.

"I did." Kaiba paused again. "If I had known you'd be upset, I would have done something. I thought you would be fine for one day."

"There's nothing you could have done," snapped Seto, his face scrunching up. "This is the one thing I just can't have. I was never even born."

Kaiba pressed soothing kisses to Seto's cheek, cold and wet under his lips. Heavy silence draped over them save for the rhythmic tick-tock of a clock racing towards midnight, and Kaiba's hand slipped away to fumble for the tray, lifting it over to set it on their laps. Upon that tray sat a small chocolate torte, its ganache almost black against the small white plate beneath it – unlike Mokuba, who preferred his parfaits made with sickly sweet milk chocolate, Kaiba and Seto preferred the bitterness of dark.

"Will you share this with me?" asked Kaiba, piercing a single candle in the middle. Seto chuckled despite himself, his mouth completely dry.

"It's your cake," he said, staring at the gentle flicker of the flame. The clock struck twelve.

"No. It's yours," replied Kaiba, kissing longer, harder this time. "Happy birthday, Seto."

His clone twitched, eyes wider than Kaiba had ever seen them.

"You were awakened on the twenty-sixth, not just because it was more convenient, but so that your birthday would not be erased completely by mine," said Kaiba. Seto swallowed hard. "I intended to surprise you tomorrow, but—"

"A birthday? _My birthday…?_" breathed Seto, his voice barely there. Kaiba nodded.

"Blow out your candle or it will just drip wax everywhere," said Kaiba. Seto closed his eyes for a moment and then let out a sigh, deep enough to snuff out that tiny flame.

"Since we can't be seen together, I will stay home tomorrow," spoke Kaiba, drawing Seto closer in his embrace as his free hand picked up a dessert fork from the tray to carve a neat bite-sized piece of the torte. "Mokuba promised to keep himself busy and Isono will come around to see to it that you get anything you want," he added, lifting the fork and its bounty for Seto to taste.

"Anything I want?" asked Seto, his lips smudged with ganache. Kaiba kissed them clean.

"Anything."

Seto paused for a moment, lowering his head to hide his grin.

"What if I want to have sex all over this apartment?"

Kaiba swallowed.

"Then he will lock the door and leave to get us steak for dinner," he replied, closing his eyes as Seto leaned closer to nuzzle the curve of his neck.

"I'd like that."


End file.
